


As the Flower Wilts

by PastelMess



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alexithymia, Blood, Depression, Drugs, Emotional Abuse, Hallucinations, M/M, Trichotillomania
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8240386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelMess/pseuds/PastelMess
Summary: Everything tastes like copper and smells like rain.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [edy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/edy/gifts).



> To Edy - You inspire me so much as a writer, and you deserve the world. Thank you for giving me the determination and inspiration to get this written.
> 
> To A - Thank you for spending countless hours discussing fic ideas with me. This wouldn't have been possible without you.
> 
> To Mars - Thank you for taking the time to edit and give suggestions for me!
> 
> To everyone else - Thank you for reading!

It’s raining.

He stands outside a diner smoking a cigarette, a blazing red bright amidst the blackness of the night. Thunder crashes; he checks his watch. It’s late, but he has nowhere to be, and so he continues smoking until the flame dies out. He crushes it under his foot and pulls another from the pack.

Josh didn’t smoke very often, but on nights like this, it was all that could keep him from doing something stupid.

He checks his watch again. The minutes tick by as he listens to the rain underneath the awning of the diner. Josh inhales deeply, letting the nicotine settle in his lungs before he crushes another cigarette butt and turns to push inside. There’s very few people inside, no one besides a couple truckers stopping in for the night. With a short sigh, Josh slides into a seat at the counter and absentmindedly taps his fingers against its peeling surface.

A woman in her late forties approaches him, smooths out her blue apron, smacks her gum and smiles. It looks genuine, but you could never be too sure in a world like this. “What can I get for you, sugar?”

“Wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee,” he mutters, still _tappingtappingtapping._

“Cream or sugar?”

“I’ll pass.”

“I’ll have that right out.” Josh watches her disappear into the kitchen, and the tapping stops. He glances over at the man sitting two stools over from him and wonders if his life is in the toilet too.

He opens the menu and skims just to distract himself. His stomach growls, twists, and Josh isn’t really sure if he’s hungry or in pain. Probably the latter.

So he orders toast with a side of bacon to convince himself that it is nothing more than hunger pains.

“Here’s your coffee, sweetheart.” The waitress’s gum goes _smack_ again as she sets down a cup of coffee. The cup is stained yellow, but Josh drinks it anyways.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll have your food out in just a bit hun.” He nods, and then she’s gone. Josh goes back to tapping. _One. Two. Three. Four._

A hand tugs on dark hair. _It’s too long,_ he thinks, pulling hard, rubbing the fallen strays between his fingers. He needs a haircut. He needs to shave it all off.

 _He_ won’t like that though. _He_ likes Josh’s hair long, because it gives him something to grab on too.

Josh’s phone vibrates against his thigh. He continues to count, to tug, to tap, circling, circling, circling.

The waitress brings out his food. He wonders how loud she screams. He wonders how she would struggle under his hands as he broke her neck and embedded _redpurpleblue_ fingerprints into her skin.

“Sweetheart? You okay?” Josh looks into her worried eyes and forces a smile.

“I’m wonderful.”

-

 _He’s_ there when Josh pushes into their apartment. It’s shitty, with peeling paint and stained carpet. They’re poor though, and he can’t do anything about that. He’s thought about stealing though. He thinks about stealing every day.

But he won’t do that. He won’t stoop to that level.

 _He_ looks over at Josh when the front door slams shut. Josh locks it, slides the deadbolt into place and tosses his keys and cigarettes onto an end table. “Where have you been?”

“Out,” Josh replies, sitting on the couch next to him. A hand, _his_ hand, Tyler’s hand, pulls on his hair. It’s sharp and harsh, and he rolls over, knocking his cell phone to the floor. The TV plays some late night news show. Josh watches with dead eyes.

_Need to shave it all off._

“I never said you could leave.”

“Well I did.” Josh stays monotone. Tyler yanks again, and slides his hand up in one flick of his wrist, nails digging painfully in his jaw. He doesn’t move as Tyler kisses him, runs his tongue along Josh’s cheekbone, his other hand tangling in Josh’s long curls.

“You fucking whore,” Tyler mutters, his grip tightening, pulling, and all Josh can do is count. _One. Two. Three. Four._ “You were probably out finding a quick fuck, weren’t you? You’re sick of me.”

“No,” his voice is soft against Tyler’s growl. “I was smoking.”

“I hate when you do that.” hands move to jeans, tugging until they reach mid thigh. Josh doesn’t fight back. He knows he could, he knows Tyler would stop, but he doesn’t. He wants this, he needs this, and Tyler needs him.

He is never gentle. A hand covered in saliva runs up and down his cock with hard force. Minutes pass. Josh counts. _One._ Tyler tugs. _Two._ Clothes get tossed somewhere. _Three._ The couch shakes as Tyler thrusts into him. _Four._ Josh moans, the TV blares, and the rain still pours.

Later, they’re both covered in come, lying lazily on top of each other. Tyler has his fingers buried in Josh’s hair. _Need to shave it all off._

“Don’t smoke again,” he says.

“Okay,” Josh replies.

-

Josh works at a bar.

He never finished high school, which left very few jobs open for him. He’s thought about going back to school, but Tyler thinks that’s a stupid idea.

“School never did shit for us,” he says. Josh shrugs.

So he sells alcohol to people for a living and decides to live with it.

His brain knocks against his skull today. Five hours into an eight hour shift, Josh is counting again. Counting and pulling his hair out. He’s been working from the bottom, hoping it’ll be less noticeable.

His coworkers watch him carefully. They can tell something is off with him. Something has always been off with him, even since he started dating Tyler.

Maybe it’s a good change. He’s not sure.

Mark sets a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “Hey man, why don’t you head out for the night?”

He’s always liked Mark. Mark is kind and caring and everything Josh is not. He owns the bar; he’s not suffering, not scraping the bottom of the barrel to pay rent and get food. “No. I need the money.”

“Josh,” Mark pulls him to the side away from all the people and lights, “I care a lot about you dude, and I know something is eating at you. We’re constantly watching you tug at your hair.”

Hands self consciously fly up to the side of his head. He feels how thin his hair is on the sides and panics. _Oh no. No, he’s gonna be mad, he’s going to be so fucking mad-_

“Josh?” Mark shakes his shoulders gently. “Talk to me.”

“I need to stay. I’m fine, I’m promise.”

“You aren’t though.” Mark’s voice is sad and sympathetic. “Please get some rest. I’ll give you pay for the rest of the hours, just... please. I’m so worried about you.”

Josh breathes through his nose. He needs a cigarette. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest.” One pat on the back and Mark disappears back into the heart of the bar. He stands still, wonders if Mark would scream if Josh bit him and used his teeth to rip out Mark’s throat.

-

Grey clouds roll above him as he walks home, his shaking hands shoved deep into his pockets and his coat wrapped tightly around him. He bumps into a few people, who in response tell him to “watch where he’s fucking going.”

Josh doesn’t say anything back.

He finds himself outside the diner again. There’s a lot more people in there than the last time, huge groups of people laughing and smiling with large breakfast platters and milkshakes and country fried steaks. Josh chain smokes and watches them through the filthy window. He wonders if he could get a job here. It’d be nice to watch so many happy people every day when he knows he’s not happy himself.

A little girl drops a napkin and begins to cry. A man, her father maybe, hands her a new one and kisses her head, and suddenly she’s smiling. Josh scoffs. He wishes the world worked like that, that he could be happy with one kiss to the forehead.

By the time he realizes he’s pressed the flame of his cigarette to his wrist, Josh has already bitten through his cheek. Blood fills his mouth, the cigarette drops the concrete, and Josh allows his eyes to swell with tears. He doesn’t cry though.

Josh doesn’t cry.

The little girl scribbles on her new napkin with a red crayon. Josh spits the blood out of his mouth and collects himself. He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay.

With a forced smile, Josh pushes his way into the diner and asks for a glass of ice. The waitress from before is there, and she remembers him. He certainly recognizes the worry in her eyes as she dabs at his burned wrist with a wet towelette, her touch soft and gentle, the complete opposite of what he’s used to. As she continues to help dress his wound, Josh keeps his attention on the happy family and their little girl. Her eyes are a brilliant blue, her smile missing a few scattered teeth, and her feet kick from under the table. Josh wonders what her screams sound like.

“There you go sugar, good as new. Now let me get you a coffee on the house. You look cold.” she tucks a lock of auburn hair behind her ear and smiles, patting Josh on his hand before pushing into the kitchen.

He taps his fingers, pulls at his hair, and counts.

Fifteen minutes later, Josh leaves with black coffee in a styrofoam cup and a job application.

-

“You’re home early,” Tyler says when Josh comes in through the apartment door. “Something happen?”

“They let me off work early,” Josh replies, dumping his keys on the end table. Tyler pushes him against the wall, Josh’s hip hitting the edge of the table. Pain shoots up his side, but his mind is already swimming in Tyler, long forgotten about the world around him.

“You were smoking again,” Tyler growls. His nails dig into Josh’s back. “I thought I told you to stop.”

“Can’t.”

Tyler fidgets, his nimble fingers brushing across skin, taking Josh’s injured wrist in his hand. “What happened?”

“Cigarette slipped.”

He sighs. “You need to be more careful.”

“I know.” Anything to make Tyler happy. Anything to make him stop being suspicious. Hands stroke chocolate locks, latch on tightly, fumble and slide. Josh’s thin t-shirt splits at the seam, and Tyler pulls the shredded tatters to the floor. His hands are warm on Josh’s body as they roam, as nails dig into soft skin. Tyler doesn’t do soft. Tyler likes it rough. _Tyler Tyler Tyler._

Teeth sink into Josh’s shoulder, and he bucks upwards in surprise. A hand curls in his hair, his stupid, stupid hair. He wants it all gone. He’s going to get it all shaved. Fuck Tyler, forget what he wants, Josh can’t do it anymore.

Tyler’s hand is on his dick, rubbing, stroking, his teeth gnawing holes into Josh’s shoulder, _suckingnippinglapping_ away at blood. Josh’s eyes are shut and he wishes he could be swallowed by a black hole. He wants to go back to the diner and smoke another pack of cigarettes, wants to watch that little girl swing her tiny legs and colour with her red crayon, wants to speak with the middle aged waitress that calls him sugar.

He starts to cry. Josh doesn’t cry. Why is he crying?

“What the fuck?” Tyler says, but it’s not soft. Tyler doesn’t do soft. “Why are you crying?”

“I can’t do this,” Josh whispers. His body is so heavy with fatigue he’s having a hard time standing upright. Tyler pulls his hand out of Josh’s pants with a sigh.

“I’m sorry. I wish...” he sighs again. “I wish I could feel something. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He takes Josh’s hand and leads him to the bathroom, sitting Josh down on the closed toilet lid. And for the first time since Josh had met him, Tyler is soft. He dabs away blood with the washcloth, even though the glint in his eye is all Josh needs to know how badly Tyler wants to lick it off of him.

“Your blood is so sweet,” Tyler had told him the third time they kissed and the first time they had slept together. Josh’s body had been littered in bite marks, all broken from where Tyler lapped away blood. That was when he discovered Tyler didn’t do soft.

Tyler pushes the hair off Josh’s forehead and kisses him gently, his fingers skidding across his cheekbone. “I really do love you. I’m sorry I’m not like other people.”

“S’okay,” Josh responds, and he means it. He knows Tyler is different. He knows Tyler can’t feel, and he’s okay with it. Tyler likes him, loves him, and Josh knows that.

“You wanna watch a movie?”

“Yes.” Tyler nods his head and tugs on Josh’s hand, curling an arm around his waist the minute he pulls himself up from the porcelain. Together they pad into their shitty living room, where Tyler covers Josh with a freshly washed blanket and slides in Josh’s favourite movie into the DVD player. The blanket smells like lavender, and Tyler’s skin radiates heat. Josh is so cold.

He counts his heartbeats. They move slow, like Houston counting down from ten for a rocket to shoot up into space, or like the minute hand of a clock. In retrospect, he feels like his heart could be a clock, counting down his last seconds until death.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler says again into the crook of Josh’s neck. It jolts him into reality.

The rocket explodes.

-

Wednesdays are his favourite because Josh doesn’t work.

A lot of times he goes into town and sits on some random bench to people watch. His favourite people are happy couples; in the middle of fall, they’re wearing heavy jackets and gloves, holding hands as they walk along the sidewalk. Some hold coffee cups, some giggle with red faces, but either way, he loves how happy they look, shining brightly in a world full of darkness.

But Josh doesn’t do that today. Today he’s sitting at their kitchen table with a bowl of Count Chocula, spooning the tiny marshmallows around in his browning milk. He hasn’t had an appetite for five minutes now, most of his cereal a soggy mess.

“Josh?” Tyler’s voice is loud from their bedroom and Josh refuses to get up or reply. Tyler tries again. “Josh!”

He counts.

Tyler barrels into the kitchen with that same blank expression he always has and pounds his fists on the table. His voice grows louder. “JOSH!”

Eyes flicker up to fury. Josh knows Tyler struggles with emotions, but he can always tell what Tyler would be feeling, and he’s mad. Josh has no clue why.

“You’re ignoring me.”

“I’m trying to eat my cereal.”

Tyler sighs, his skinny body flopping into the chair across from Josh. He runs fingers through his hair before pulling the sleeves of his hoodie past his fingertips. “Sorry for yelling.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m gonna get my hair cut today. Do you have plans?”

“No,” Josh lies.

“Okay then. I’ll see you later.” Tyler forces a smile. His smiles have never been real smiles, they’re too tight and too fake to be considered for that category. He’s had practice, he’s getting better, Josh knows that. It scares him.

He sits in silence for ten minutes after Tyler has left, pulling hair after hair from his head. It’s not fair that Tyler gets to cut his hair and he doesn’t. He hates his hair, hates it hates it hates it.

After another few minutes, Josh dumps his clumps of hair on the floor, drops his cereal down the drain, grabs his car keys and lets the door slam behind him.

-

The lady with her auburn hair and gum smiles at him when he slides down into the counter. “Well it’s sure good to see you, sugar! Can I get you some coffee?”

“Yeah,” Josh nods. He pulls his job application out of his pocket and slides it across the countertop. “You know who I could give this to?”

She smiles and offers her hand. “My name’s Judy. I own this place.”

His eyes widen. “Oh.”

“I’ll go get you that coffee and we can talk about this, sound good?” her acrylic nails tap on his application, and after he nods again, she leaves. Josh’s stomach churns. She probably sees right through him. She knows he has problems, she can tell just how-

“Here you go honey, now why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?” Josh watches closely as she slides off her apron and scoots into the stool next to him. His eyes flicker to the yellow stains on the coffee cup, and he swallows nervously. It’s been awhile since he’s done a job interview.

“My name is Josh. I work at a bar.”

“So you have restaurant experience?” Her eyes radiate kindness. Josh wants this job even more.

“Sort of. But I’m a fast learner.”

“Why do you want to work here?”

Josh doesn’t even need to think about it. “Everyone is so kind. And that’s something I need more of in my life.”

Judy smiles and extends her hand. “I think you’d be a great addition to the team Josh. When can you start?”

“Immediately.”

-

Mark isn’t happy, but he seems understanding.

“I get it. You gotta get on with your life.”

“It’s nothing against you, I promise. I just need some change.” He refuses to make eye contact. Mark knows things. He’s just that kind of person.

“You going to leave Tyler?” That catches Josh’s attention. He looks up at Mark’s clenched jaw and sad eyes.

“Why would I leave him?”

“Because he’s toxic. You know that. You’ve told me-”

“I never said he was toxic. I love him.” Josh steps back, ready to flee if he needs to. Who the fuck does Mark think he is?

“Josh, he treats you like shit-”

“He does not! Who the fuck are you to tell me-”

“I mean it as a friend Josh!” Mark’s yelling now. “I care about you a lot. I just want you to be safe.”

“I’m fine.” he scowls and takes a step back. “I’ll be back on Friday for my paycheck.” Josh secretly wants Mark to call out for him, to give him a hug, to tell him more bad things about his relationship with Tyler, but he doesn’t do any of those things. He doesn’t even speak as Josh leaves the bar.

He drives out of the city and onto a highway. Josh has no idea where he’s going and he doesn’t care.

He gets to a truck stop and smokes 12 cigarettes, crushing every single butt under his boot. Josh wishes he could cry. He wishes his parents were still around for him to call, or that Jordan wasn’t ashamed to announce to the world that Josh was his brother.

Josh wishes he didn’t feel so alone all the time.

He buys four more packs, pulling wadded twenties out of his pockets to throw onto the counter.

“You’re too young to be destroying your lungs kid.”

Josh scoffs as he collects his change, shoving the crisp bills back into his pockets and stacking the cartons on top of each other. “I know.”

-

Tyler is angry.

“I’m sorry,” Josh mumbles, but he doesn’t mean it. He never does.

“You fucking idiot, you’re going to get yourself killed!” Tyler screams at him, so loud that Josh shrinks into a corner. He watches Tyler throw his cigarettes into the trash can. He watches Tyler break things. Glass shatters and scatters across the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, ignoring the wetness in his eyes.

After he’s done breaking things, Tyler takes a deep breath to collect himself. He closes his eyes. “Stop smoking.”

“I got a new job,” Josh says. Tyler doesn’t care.

“Stop smoking.”

“It’s at a diner. Everyone is so nice-”

“Stop fucking smoking.” the veins in Tyler’s neck twitch. He’s angry. A second passes, his fist shoots out, hitting the wall next to Josh’s head.

Josh stares, and counts. _One angry Tyler, two broken glasses, three packs of cigarettes thrown in the trash._ He wants to pull out his hair again, every last strand.

“I love you Tyler.” that gets him to stop. He straightens his posture.

“I love you too. You know that, right? It’s so difficult for me to explain what love is, but every ounce is directed towards you.”

“I know.” Josh clears his throat. He knows Tyler needs it more than he does, and he needs a distraction. He has to stop smoking like he’s been doing recently. “Wanna have sex?”

One of his fake smiles is back. “Always.”

Tyler is quick, he’s always so quick, because sex is one of the few things that makes him feel like normal. “Nobody will love someone who lacks emotions,” Tyler had told him one of the first times they had talked. “I don’t even understand the concept of love. I’ve never felt it. I don’t even think I love my parents, or my brothers or my sister.”

“You do,” Josh had replied back. “Deep down, you do. You just haven’t realized it.”

That’s what he thinks about as Tyler fucks him into their bed, the frame knocking against the wall loudly. He had one of his legs thrown over Tyler’s shoulder, the other bent at the knee, and his hands gripping at the sheets every time pleasure overcomes him.

Josh stares at the ceiling. The room is pitch black, the only light from the neon numbers on their alarm clock that is never used. He feels Tyler’s tongue inside him.

He realizes he feels empty. That’s the feeling he couldn’t put words to. Tyler had no emotions and Josh had too many.

Maybe he feels empty because he’s floating around in the world without any purpose. He lives in a shitty apartment, has a low paying job, hates himself more than anything in the world. Maybe his soul left his body, maybe he’s already dead, maybe this is hell.

“I fucking love you,” Tyler presses a kiss into his shoulder, riding him through his orgasam. Josh is quiet. He hasn’t been loud since the first time they had sex.

His mind is elsewhere, but his mouth moves for him. “I love you too.”

-

A cockroach shuffles across the bathroom floor. Josh ignores it.

His reflection hasn’t been himself in quite sometime. He doesn’t think he can pinpoint the exact moment, but over the years his body has been deteriorating. Thick, purple bags hang under his eyes all the time, his hair thick and shaggy and he hasn’t shaved in weeks. A full grown beard is starting to appear along his face.

Tyler has always liked the beard. He likes the feeling of it scratching against his skin when Josh has got his cock in his mouth.

Josh hates it, just as much as he hates how long his hair is. The electric razor shakes in his hand, and he gets _so_ close to buzzing off it all off. _One. Two. Three. Four._

“Josh!” the razor clatters in the sink and Tyler appears behind him. He smells like sex. “There you are. Something wrong?”

“No, just gonna shave.” his hands shake at his sides now. He clenches them into fists, and they still shake.

“Oh, alright. Hey, I was thinking we could go shopping today. I wanna get you some new clothes.”

“Okay. That sounds fine.”

“Cool. We can stop by Mcdonalds and get breakfast. I just gotta shower first.”

“Sure.” Tyler leaves, and Josh is left alone.

His eyes are bloodshot from sleepless nights. Josh runs fingers through his hair, and to his dismay discovers something horrifying.

A bald patch, right where he told himself Tyler wouldn’t notice. It’s huge too.

Tears burn. He told himself it wouldn’t get that bad. He told himself-

Josh decides he has to tell Tyler he needs a haircut. So he picks up his razor and shaves.

-

Tyler is acting different, which makes Josh very suspicious.

For one, he’s soft, just like a couple of nights ago when Josh showed weakness. He holds Josh’s hand loosely, and compliments him on his clean shave.

“You look nice.” Even his voice is soft and sends chills through Josh’s body. Maybe they’re good chills.

They eat pancakes in McDonalds tucked into a corner away from all the people. It’s busy in the mornings, which means Josh gets to people watch. He sees another happy couple, and a family with two twin girls. One wears a blue dress, the other orange, and they keep poking each other and bursting into fits of giggles.

Josh smiles.

“I was thinking we go to the mall first,” Tyler continues to talk, not paying attention to the fact that Josh isn’t paying attention to him. “I want to get you some button ups or something. If you’re starting a new job, you gotta look good for it, even if you’re in an apron.”

“They’ll probably give me a shirt to wear,” Josh replies, not looking away from the little girls. The one in the blue dress pushes her sister and laughs again.

“You’ll find some need for it. You’ll be hot anyways.”

Josh swallows, his Adam’s Apple bobbing hurriedly. He hates that phrase. There are so many better words to use. “I want to get a haircut.”

“Really?” There is shock in Tyler’s voice. “I’m surprised. I thought you liked your hair long.”

 _You like my hair long, you son of a bitch._ Josh wonders if Tyler would scream if he wrapped his hands around his neck and used all his force to snap it. He wonders if Tyler would feel betrayed, or embrace it. Josh certainly embraced all the damage Tyler did to him yesterday night.

The bite mark on his shoulder burns as he shrugs. “Time for a change. New job, new me.”

“Alright then Josh. Get your hair cut. Jus’...” he’s thinking. “How’d you feel about shaving just the sides?”

Josh blinks. “Like... a mohawk?”

“Bingo.” Tyler shovels the syrup-pancake slop into his mouth. “You’d look hot.”

Would Tyler look good with _redpurpleblue_ painting his body, with his bones broken and his blood pooling and-

“Josh?”

He blinks again, rubs his head. “Sorry.”

“It’s all good. You doing alright?”

Josh forces a smile. “I’m good.”

“Then let’s head to the mall.” he takes Josh by the hand, and after dumping their trash they head off.

-

He hasn’t felt this normal in such a long time.

Tyler doesn’t like to go out much, spending most of his time locked away in the dark. But today, he’s smiling, even _laughing,_ (Josh knows it’s not genuine, it’ll never be genuine, but it’s still nice) and Josh forgets about everything. He’s floating on a cloud.

Plus, his haircut is a lot nicer than he thought it would be. The sides got shaved and the middle was trimmed, which makes it a lot harder to pull, for Tyler to grab onto. He’s thrilled.

Even more so that the barber didn’t say anything about the bald spot on the back of his head.

Tyler buys him four new button ups and a handful of t-shirts; Josh treats them to froyo. He thinks about all the happy couples he sees and wonders if this is as close as they’re going to get.

They don’t have sex that night, which Josh is secretly thankful for. His body always has a dull ache, but it’s been particularly bad today.

Tyler kisses him though, still being soft. That’s his theme today. After they’re changed into sweats, both shirtless, and Tyler’s put on some thriller movie, his fingers swirl across Josh’s chest, using his breathing as a metronome and his finger as a paintbrush, padding across fading yellow bruises and scabbed blood and hair. Their kisses are lazy, but nice. Josh feels nice.

“I love you,” he tells Tyler, feeling the latter smile against his mouth. It’s the first time he’s said it first in months.

It’s the first time he’s meant it in months.

-

Friday Josh picks up his paycheck from Mark. The exchange is awkward and uncomfortable.

“I like your haircut,” Mark says. His voice is quiet.

“Thank you.” Josh pushes his foot into the carpet of the office.

“When do you start your new job?”

“Tomorrow actually. I’m excited.”

“That’s good.” Mark opens his mouth to say more, but snaps his jaw shut at the last second. Josh bets good money it would have been about Tyler.

He doesn’t want to talk about Tyler.

The two are quiet, swaying on feet and avoiding eye contact for a few minutes. Mark scratches behind his ear, Josh tugs on some loose strands of hair. His throat burns.

“Well, I better get going.”

“Of course.” Mark steps to open the office door. “Don’t be a stranger. Maybe we can get drinks or something.”

“Course, I’d like that. Just not here.”

Mark laughs. It sounds artificial. “Of course. Josh, please be safe and take care of yourself.”

“I will.” he lies, and leaves the office with his paycheck in hand. He made over a thousand dollars for the last two weeks, and relief floods over his body. He’ll be getting more at the diner, but it’s nice leaving with a decent paycheck. He knows it’ll be gone in seconds.

Tyler doesn’t have a job. Nobody wants to hire a sociopath.

He’s home when Josh gets back, laying in the darkness of their room. He doesn’t flinch when Josh climbs in next to him.

They don’t touch. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Tyler murmurs back. He’s watching the blades of the ceiling fan rotate. “How’d things go?”

“Alright.”

“Good.” Tyler is silent. Josh is silent.

Josh speaks. “I have to get up at six tomorrow morning. Do you wanna watch-”

“No,” he interrupts before Josh can finish. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh. Alright.” Josh counts. _One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. Three-_ “I’m gonna go fill the car up with gas. Sleep well.” His lips hover above Tyler’s forehead, debating, and he ends up going through with it. His stomach twist when Tyler hums in satisfaction.

Josh leaves quietly. He does go to the gas station, but it isn’t to get gas like he said. It’s to buy cigarettes.

He buys four more cartons, dumps more crumpled change on the counter, hears more lectures about destroying his lungs. Josh already knows his lungs have gone to shit.

He doesn’t care.

Josh smokes an entire pack of cigarettes, shoves the rest deep into his pockets, and goes home.

-

That night he dreams of strangling Tyler to death. His fingers wrap around Tyler’s neck, snap his trachea, turn his skin _redpurpleblue._

And Josh laughs.

-

He wakes up twenty minutes before his alarm and stares at the ceiling. He can hear Tyler breathing next to him. It’d be so easy to end everything. He’d be free.

Instead, Josh turns his alarm off out of courtesy, and dresses in his work clothes. He wears the floral button up Tyler picked out for him, and glances at his boyfriend once more.

 

_Josh works at a bar. He never finished high school, which left very few job options for him._

_It was a busy night; after all, it was Saturday, and Mark’s bar was raving with people. Josh leaned against the counter, drying some shot glasses with a probably dirty rag, when he noticed a man with an untouched shot of tequila. He didn’t fit in with everyone else, wearing an oversized black hoodie that laid limp on his skinny frame instead of night clothes. He didn’t seem like the kind of person to be out at a bar on a Saturday night._

_“Hey,” he said to the man, tossing the rag over his shoulder, “Why the long face?”_

_The man chuckled a little. Josh could tell it was fake laughter. “It’s been a rough week.”_

_“That’s what alcohol is for.”_

_He shrugged. “Not in the mood I guess. Not really a big drinker. I know what you’re thinking. Why would I be at a bar then?” He shrugged again. “I like the atmosphere.”_

_Josh nodded. “So... you wanna talk about it?”_

_The man didn’t hesitate. “My girlfriend dumped me. Said I was toxic. I didn’t really understand what she meant, but I left anyways. There’s other people I suppose.”_

_“You’ll find the one,” he offered support, and the man’s face suddenly changed. He didn’t look as down anymore._

_“I’m Tyler.”_

_Josh smiled. “Josh.”_

 

He blinks and rips away from Tyler curled under the covers. They had kissed that night, after Josh had gotten off work. They were both a little tipsy, and things had felt so _perfect._ He thinks about what drew him to the man in the oversized hoodie. He wonders what would have happened if he never talked, never went home with him, never kissed him, never slept with him. He wonders where’d he be if he hadn’t ignored the signs.

He wishes he never had gotten involved.

He wishes he could flee.

Josh combs his hair, grabs his lunch, and heads to work.

-

They give him a black t-shirt with the diner’s name in the corner and a white apron that he ties around his waist. He changes, shoving the button up as far into his bag as possible, ignoring the urge to rip his hair out.

“You’ll be following me around today, sugar,” Judy smiles, smacks her gum, pats him on the shoulder. “You’ll be serving for the time being ‘till we get you some kitchen experience.”

“Cool,” he nods, following her through the restaurant. It’s peaceful with no one inside, not eerie like his shitty apartment.

“You’ll get three fifteens for an eight hour shift and a half an hour unpaid lunch. Sneak your smoke breaks into those.” she winks, and for a second he wonders how she knows, before realizing he’s been doing it so much lately he probably reeks of nicotine. “I’m really excited to work with you Josh.”

“I’m excited to work with you too.” he smiles back, unsure if it’s convincing enough. He hopes so. He wants it to be genuine.

Josh helps her set tables and introduces himself to a few other employees. He meets two other servers, both girls, named Jenna and Debby. They smile politely at him.

“I like your hair,” Debby murmurs, her own faux blonde hair covering the blush across her nose. Josh says thank you and goes back to following Judy.

“So tell me about yourself Josh. What do you like to do?” She’s unloading boxes, pulling out items and putting them on shelves.

“Not much,” he admits, leaning forward on the broom he’s currently using. “I’m not very interesting.”

“I call bull.”

He shrugs. “I like watching people I guess. In a non creepy way. I just like to see how they behave when they think no one's watching.”

“That’s not a bad thing sweetheart. What about at home? Girlfriend? Any siblings?”

“Boyfriend actually.” He’s thankful when she doesn’t even bat an eyelash at that statement. “His name is Tyler. He is my family.”

Josh hasn’t spoken with his family in ten years. They probably thought he was dead, and were maybe okay with that.

Sometimes, he wished he was dead.

“Oh how lovely! I’m so glad he’s good to you.”

 _I never said that,_ he thinks, but doesn’t say out loud. This is work, not therapy. He’s okay.

-

Josh gets off at work at 5. On his way home, he sees someone crossing the street. It’s an elderly woman using a walker, and an overpowering urge falls over him. He laughs as the crack of her bones rings in his ear, as her screams diminish, as people stare at him in horror.

He shakes out of it just in time to swerve his car out of the other lane. The driver of the car he almost hit honks his horn and flips him off. Josh can’t keep his tears in, and they _run run run_ as he pulls off onto the shoulder of the highway and flips on his emergency lights.

He counts to one hundred, tries to calm himself, grasps at short strands of hair. Maybe Tyler was right. He needed it long to pull, to tug, to keep himself sane. He can’t do this anymore.

Josh can’t go home.

He spends fifteen more minutes on the side of the road, watching cars speed past him as he smokes a cigarette. He tells himself only one, only _one one one._

-

“I wanna eat you out,” Tyler says the second Josh steps over the threshold, and Josh nods. He needs a distraction. He needs to stop killing people.

Tyler is rough again. Rough taking off clothes, rough pushing through arousal, rough with Josh’s skin. His bites are hard, leaving Josh’s skin more _redpurpleblue,_ licking away the blood that trickles from the wounds. Josh stares at the ceiling fan and counts. _One. Two. Three. Four._

He’s flipped onto his stomach, feels Tyler’s tongue on his inner thigh, feels Tyler open him up, feels him inside. Josh still counts.

He’s so empty. So, so empty.

He could tell Tyler to stop. Josh knows Tyler would stop, if he told him to.

But he doesn’t, and continues to count.

That night, Josh dreams of stabbing Tyler in the chest with a knife and watching his blood stain his white t-shirt copper.

-

Josh goes to work.

People seem to really like him. They leave him big tips and tell him how well he’s doing. He really loves serving, because when he isn’t bringing out food or checking on tables, he can watch from the back of the diner. There are so many kinds of people; old men who sit at the counter and eat their poached eggs, families with little kids that smear their faces with powdered sugar and syrup, teenagers that laugh obnoxiously and flick straw wrappers at each other. His favourite are the kids. He likes seeing how innocent they are, how easily they can become happy. They make him feel safe.

A little girl tells him she likes his hair. He bends down to her level and smiles.

“Thank you.”

“I know a Josh. I have a crush on him.” her parents laugh, and Josh’s grin widens.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s really good at kickball.”

“That’s a good thing to be good at.”

“I think so.” she sticks her thumb in her mouth and goes back to colouring.

Her parents give him a ten dollar tip. “She never talks to anyone,” they tell him. “Thank you.”

Josh goes home feeling warm that night.

It’s raining again, but it falls soft and gentle, and Josh is in a great mood. He hasn’t smoked at all, hasn’t counted, hasn’t thought once about pulling out his hair.

He’s in a great mood.

Tyler isn’t home when he barges inside. With a sigh of relief, he drops his keys on the end table and busies himself with the dishes Tyler said he would do (but never did.) he hums, drums his fingers on the countertop, tucks the dishes nicely in the dishwasher. Sometimes he thinks about having kids of his own, but Josh knows that’ll never happen. He’s too messed up to have children of his own, to take care of kids himself. He could certainly never raise children with Tyler.

He wonders if Tyler has ever killed anyone.

-

Tyler comes home at midnight. Josh lies awake in bed, watching the blades of the ceiling fan rotate slowly around. The bed creaks as Tyler climbs in, his feet cold where they press against Josh’s calf.

“How was work?” he whispers. Josh pretends he’s asleep and doesn’t respond.

Tyler rolls over and doesn’t say another word.

-

Monday morning Josh wakes up early. The unused alarm clock glows bright, and it’s still dark outside when he climbs out of bed and dresses. He can hear the rain _pitter pattering_ on the ground outside. Josh loves the rain.

The apartment creaks, the heater stirs, as Josh slides his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and jams his keys into his pocket, right next to his cigarettes. He doesn’t work today. He wishes he did.

Josh doesn’t drive, doesn’t even think about climbing into his car that smells of smoke. He’s been noticing that the roof is starting to tint yellow on the inside. He wonders if Tyler can smell the nicotine on his clothes and buried in his skin. He hasn’t said anything about it in quite some time.

Josh walks with his hands tucked in his pockets, his hood pulled far over his face. No one is out walking around this early besides an older man walking his dog. He thinks it’s a shih tzu mix of some kind and continues walking on.

His fingers fumble with the lighter, eventually giving in and pulling it out along with his cigarettes. He needs them now, like breathing or water. It’s all Tyler’s fault.

_Tyler Tyler Tyler._

Tyler’s name is a curse on his brain. His bones crunch and twist under his skin, his muscles contact, his mind screams.

 _But I love him,_ Josh tells himself. He laughs, and continues walking on.

Josh’s lungs burn with smoke. He smiles and continues walking on.

-

The rain comes down harder, putting out his cigarette. With a sigh, he drops it in the grass and walks faster. He’s walked at least a mile now, far away from the apartment. He has no clue where he is or where he’ll go, but his feet keep moving. He counts.

A jogger smiles politely at him when he walks past her in a park. He stares at her for a second, watching her arms move back each time her feet hit the pavement.

His fingers twitch. Josh _needs to, needs to-_

She screams when he slides his hand over her mouth. Josh feels teeth sink into his fingers and embraces the pain, the blood. Tyler will love it, Tyler loves how damaged he is, _Tyler Tyler Tyler._

Josh snaps her neck. It’s a clean break, and her eyes, so full of fright, stare up at him. The rain continues to pour as Josh stares.

It takes a total of five seconds before he leans over and pukes.

-

Josh runs. He’s not sure what else to do.

Tyler sits on the couch with a cup of coffee when Josh bursts in. Josh is sobbing so hard his words are incoherent, and Tyler has to yell for Josh to speak normally.

“I killed someone.”

“No you didn’t,” Tyler replies. He sits down, and Josh is left alone.

-

He expects someone to find the body.

The next three days of work Josh is paranoid and frantic, his hands always shaking by his sides. The bruises Tyler leaves on him are bright against his pale skin, and he hides them with a long sleeved shirt. Judy doesn’t ask. She never asks.

He sees things. Blood runs down walls, his hands break things, his food is regurgitated into the toilet. Josh smokes, Josh counts, Josh tugs out his hair. He pulls on the longest hairs forcefully, wanting it gone, gone, gone. Tyler is no help. Tyler doesn’t believe him.

And so Josh screams.

“Go home,” Judy tells him on the morning of the fourth day. She isn’t mean. She is never mean. “Please.”

“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head and rubs his face. Josh hasn’t shaved. He’s pulling those hairs out too. “I d-don’t, I don’t know what’s wrong with m-me.”

“It’s okay sweetheart. You get better soon, okay? We’ll be waiting for you, throw you a party.” her smile usually brings him joy. It brings him nothing.

Josh is empty inside.

He doesn’t go home. He smokes and walks back to the park with his hood up, just in case. He deserves to go to prison. He killed someone, he killed someone, he killed someone.

A jogger runs past him. Josh moves out of the way.

He walks past a family. His hands shake. Josh wants to kill them. He pulls his hair out.

Everything smells like copper and tastes like rain. Josh bites his tongue. He wants to cut it out, wants it out, wants it o-u-t.

The body isn’t there.

Josh drops to his knees and weeps.

-

Mark finds him.

Josh is covered in grass and leaves and soaked head to toe with rainwater. It’s been raining every day, every _damn_ day, and he’s drowning.

“Take me back to Tyler,” Josh demands, but Mark isn’t an idiot. He takes Josh back to his house. Mark has a house, has a girlfriend, has a dog. Mark is happy.

Josh is empty inside.

Mark takes Josh’s clothes off and lets him borrow his own. He doesn’t look when he peels off Josh’s wet boxers.

Josh continues to cry.

Mark’s girlfriend gives him hot cocoa and cries with him. He’s never met her before, but she hugs him tightly, hangs a blanket over his shoulders, plants a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re safe now, you’re safe,” she whispers, pushing hair off his forehead. Josh is so happy Mark found him.

-

Josh’s phone vibrates. He knows it’s Tyler, and ignores it.

Mark looks ready to interrogate him. Josh tries to think about how long he cried in the park, but time is too difficult for his mind to wrap around.

“Josh, I’m worried about you.” Mark doesn’t hide his worry.

“I thought I killed someone,” Josh says. His voice is soft.

“Why’s that?”

“I broke her neck. I liked breaking her neck.”

“You didn’t kill anyone. They would have found you by now. They would have found the body and announced it.”

“I think I might snap, you know, and kill him.” Josh doesn’t need to tell Mark who he means by _him._ “I don’t want to kill him, but I think about doing it.”

“You need to move Josh. You need to get away-”

“He’s not bad to me Mark. He takes care of me. He loves me-”

“You’re the one paying the rent Josh, not him. You’re the one suffering. Can’t you see-”

“I love him.” Josh is crying again. “I love him, and I don’t know why. I can’t leave him. I can’t.”

Mark sighs. “Please stay here tonight. I’ll call him. Please. You need to cool off still. Man, people were getting ready to call the police. They thought you were dead. How long-” he chokes. Josh has never seen Mark cry. “How long were you out there?”

“Not long enough,” he says. Mark hugs him.

-

“This is Mark. Josh is staying with me tonight.”

Tyler hangs up the phone.

-

Mark drops Josh off at his apartment the next morning. He’s reluctant to let Josh go upstairs and be alone with Tyler.

“I’m fine, I promise,” Josh tells him, even though he’s lying.

“You have my phone number. Text me if you need anything.”

“Of course.” With a forced smile, Josh climbs out of Mark’s SUV and walks upstairs. He stands outside the door with his hand hovering above the doorknob. Josh is brave. He can do this.

Tyler pulls him into a hug and squeezes him tightly. “I was so fucking worried, you never came home, and I thought you were dead or something. Josh, you can’t do this shit man.”

“I’m sorry,” Josh tells him. “I’m so sorry.”

Everything tastes like copper and smells like rain.

-

Josh kills again. This time, he drives into the city and finds someone stumbling from a bar. He hits their head against the ground until their brains cover the pavement like a canvas painting.

This time, he doesn’t cry.

-

He’s up to a pack of cigarettes a day. They’re short on rent. Tyler says he’ll find a way.

Judy tells him he’s not ready to come back to work. Josh says he needs the money.

She puts him on dish duty.

It’s a major step down, and he hates it, but Josh knows she’s right. He’s not ready, and he knows it. Everything tastes like copper and smells like rain.

Tyler tells Josh that he’s looking for work. He tells Josh that he’s going to try harder to be a better person and contribute.

Tyler tells Josh how beautiful he is when Josh has his cock in his mouth.

-

Josh has another bald spot. He loses everything, takes that electric razor and shaves his entire head. He screams, Tyler screams, wrestles the razor out of his hands and pins him to the floor.

Josh cries. He can’t help it, he can’t hide his weakness, he can’t be who he was anymore. Tyler pulls Josh under the icy stream of the shower and together they sit until their skin prunes and Josh’s teeth chatter.

“I’m so sorry Josh,” Tyler mumbles into the crook of Josh’s neck. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

Josh goes to run fingers through his hair, only to remember he no longer has any.

He screams again.

Tyler takes care of him. Tyler has always taken care of him, despite what Mark says. He’s taking care of Josh right now, changing him into warm clothes, rubbing circles into his back, popping popcorn and pouring chocolate milk into glasses. They watch _Fight Club,_ and Tyler never once removes his hand from Josh’s back.

“You’re okay,” he whispers into Josh’s ear. Josh doesn’t believe him, but he pretends he does. Josh hopes Tyler is happy, because he can’t tell. He really hopes Tyler is happy.

Tyler puts on another movie. This time they watch _Back to the Future._ Josh loses himself. His mind is playdough, being molded and squished by the world around him.

He watches Marty skateboard to school. “Tyler, are you happy?”

Tyler sighs. “Josh, you know-”

“Do you think you’re happy?”

“Josh, I don’t-”

He grabs the TV remote from Tyler’s hand and turns the television off. It snaps, plunging the living room into darkness. “Explain to me.”

“I can’t. I can’t Josh.”

“Then how can you love me?” Josh is crying again, but his tears are silent. Suddenly, everything makes sense. The world is spinning. His knuckles pop, one by one. _I can’t, I can’t Josh._

He wants to flee.

“You’re important to me Josh, please. You told me you understood, you said-”

“I was stupid.” Tyler had been careful about it. He had dropped hints, and Josh had been so stupid.

 

_“I struggle with emotions. It’s hard for me to put names to the ones I can feel. I’m nothing more than a slab of concrete.”_

_“That’s okay,” Josh had said, and he reached out to pat Tyler’s hand. “I don’t care. You... you make me feel something. My stomach bunches up, my head spins, and I feel invincible. That’s love. That’s what love feels like.”_

_Tyler nodded, and took Josh’s word for it. “I love you then.”_

_“I love you too.”_

 

“You aren’t stupid, Josh, listen, you’re confused, you don’t know what’s going on-”

“I know what’s going on.” he pushes himself off the couch. “I know perfectly well what’s going on. And I can’t do it anymore.”

“Josh, please!” Tyler yells. Josh watches a lump move in the darkness, and light blinds him. The tears fall harder. Josh grips the edge of the couch. The leather is peeling; it’s fake, everything is fake.

He is empty inside.

Josh lets Tyler touch him. He’s weak, he will always be so very weak. The room turns red, all Josh can see is red. Tyler’s hands guide him to the wall. They touch his shoulders, touch his neck, touch his face. Josh lets Tyler kiss him.

Tyler is soft.

“I’ll start going to therapy,” he whispers. “I’ll try and get help, I don’t want to lose you.”

“How do you know?” A dagger pushes into Josh’s heart. “How do you know what love is?”

“You told me Josh, you told me, and I _know_ it’s there somewhere. You can’t leave me. You can’t.” Tyler doesn’t cry. Tyler never cries.

Josh wonders if he’s killed someone. Tyler only sees in black and white.

“I’ll get help,” Tyler says again. Josh sees red.

He wraps his hands around Tyler’s neck and squeezes.

-

The next morning, Josh rolls over. Tyler is sound asleep, right next to him.

Josh cries. He didn’t kill Tyler. He didn’t, he didn’t, he didn’t.

He didn’t kill anyone else either. He’s fine. He’s not a murderer. He’s _alive._

He lays in bed for an hour, two hours, three hours. Tyler wakes up, and lies with him. They hold hands, Tyler touches his face with gentle fingers.

Tyler doesn’t do soft, but today he does. Josh wonders what is going through his mind. He wonders if Tyler knows what he’s missing out on.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler murmurs. Josh’s eyes have adjusted enough to see that Tyler is staring up at the ceiling. “I had to. I had to.” Josh doesn’t ask what Tyler is talking about. He doesn’t want to know. So instead, they keep holding hands.

-

Josh goes to the barber to get his hair fixed. The barber doesn’t ask.

Tyler starts therapy, and Josh goes back to work. Judy doesn’t ask about his hair either. She hugs him though, closely, and with caution. Josh is glad, glad, glad.

“What do you want to do today?” she asks, smiling. It’s a sympathetic smile, one you give someone after they’ve told you something inspiring or uplifting after they’ve suffered.

“I want to serve,” he says indubitably. Judy’s smile becomes real.

“Then you serve.”

She asks him that every time he works. Sometimes he wants to serve, wants to be around people and watch how they act when they think no one is paying attention to them. Sometimes he needs to keep his hands busy and wants to be away from people, so he washes dishes. And other time, Judy takes him to the kitchen to learn how to cook. She introduces him to a man named Mitchell.

Mitchell is a large man with a lot of tattoos, and he’s quiet. At first, he only communicates with grunts and nods. Josh’s training goes on for a few days, and he warms up.

One day, he shows Josh his wrist, shows him the hundreds of tally marks tattooed down his inner arm. Josh can see the scars, and he knows. He knows that Mitchell knows.

“It gets better,” Mitchell tells him. “It gets so much better.”

Josh decides he likes Mitchell.

The next time they work together, Mitchell gives him some rubber bands. “They help,” he grunts, and goes back to flipping burgers.

Josh decides that he really, really likes Mitchell.

-

December comes. Snow falls and falls and falls, quiet and light against the darkness of the world. Josh loves snow. It makes everything so pure, like rebirth. Your sins too, can be washed away.

He also thinks about what would happen if he died out in the snow, and it continued to cover and cover and cover his body until he meant nothing anymore. How long would it take for someone to find him? Would it matter in the end? Josh meant nothing. He was a nobody in a world of somebodies, always had been and always would be.

He kills three more people. Strangles one, hits another’s head against a rock, pushes someone into a lake.

He even kills Judy, watches her eyes bulge out of her head as he squeezes his hands around her neck behind the dumpster. His fingerprints leave _redpurpleblue_ all over her neck. Josh screams. He never meant to, he never meant to, he _never meant to._

Tyler goes to therapy. Josh isn’t sure if it’s actually working, because Tyler never talks about it. He spends more time in the darkness of their room, refusing to leave the bed. Tyler says it again one night when Josh climbs into bed.

“I’m sorry. I had to, I had to.”

And once again, Josh doesn’t ask.

He goes to work, he smokes his cigarettes, he snaps that rubber band against his wrist so many times that his wrist is turning red. Josh has started pulling out his eyelashes, his eyebrow hairs, even the hair on his arms. He needs to pull. The rubber band can only do so much. He starts to wonder if he should be the one going to therapy.

Josh’s life becomes so much of a system that he doesn’t realize his anniversary with Tyler had passed. It had been three years.

Josh hates himself. Josh hates Tyler. Josh loves Tyler.

He wraps his hand around Tyler’s neck and squeezes.

-

Mark comes to visit.

The snowfall is heavy; the diner even closed due to the fall. The streets were being plowed, but it was falling faster than it could actually be cleaned up.

So Josh sits on the couch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, watching the news. It’s nothing but terrible, terrible things, and makes him feel even worse.

His hair is starting to grow back. He can feel it. He’s been growing his beard out just so he can pull out that hair until the time being. Josh really doesn’t want to be walking around without eyebrows or eyelashes.

He knows he’s doing damage on his body. He has bruises, and scars, and everything is red. He’s skinny too, losing weight so quickly it’s taking a toll on him. Josh can’t eat. He screams, and his nightmares are getting worse. Tyler holds him most nights, telling Josh he’s sorry. Josh wants to know what for, what are you sorry for, _tell me, tell me, TELL ME._

But Josh stays quiet.

Maybe Tyler is getting better. His smiles seem real, or maybe he’s getting better at faking them.

Either way, Josh is scared.

Everything tastes like copper and smells like rain.

Tyler is at therapy now, bracing the snow to attend his appointment. He’s trying, and Josh is thankful.

There’s a knock at the door, and Mark pushes in. He sits next to Josh, eyeing him carefully. Mark hadn’t seen Josh since the park incident. They don’t speak. Josh plays with the fraying blanket that no longer smells like lavender, and Mark watches Josh, studies him.

“How many people have you killed?” he asks.

“Nine,” Josh whispers. “I know I’m not really killing them, but it feels. so. real. Everything tastes like copper and smells like rain.”

“It’s called Trichotillomania,” Mark’s voice is soothing, the anchor keeping Josh from floating away. “When you always want to pull your hair out. That’s why you shaved your head, isn’t it?” Josh says nothing. Mark takes it as an invite to say more. “I wanna get you help Josh. There are people you can talk to, people that can get you medicine-”

“I don’t need help.” Josh stands up, backs away from Mark. The anchorman talks about the weather. Snow, snow, and more snow. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“You aren’t fine Josh. You’re hallucinating murders. Don’t you think-” Mark is up now too, and Josh shoves him. Mark stumbles over the ottoman, his head hitting the table. He rubs the spot gingerly, staring at Josh with wide eyes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Josh cuts himself short. He pulls at his short, short hair, wants it gone, wants it all gone.

“Shit,” Mark says, and Josh thinks it’s about him. He starts to apologize again, moving to help his friend up, but Mark holds up a hand, and pulls a jar of liquid out from under the couch. It has a napkin dipped into it, dark maroon soaking it like blood.

_Everything tastes like copper and smells like rain._

_I’m so sorry, I had to, I had to, I had to._

Josh blinks.

“He was drugging you,” Mark is exasperated.

“No,” he shakes his head, “no, it doesn’t make any sense, he was here too, he’d be under the effects too, he loves me, he loves me, he loves me-”

“He was drugging you,” Mark repeats, a little louder. “He was _fucking_ drugging you.”

“No he wasn’t, you don’t know that-”

“You’re in denial Josh! Can’t you see? Can’t you...” he trails off, still looking at the jar. “He’s been doing other stuff to, hasn’t he? Josh, you can’t stay here. You can’t stay with him. We need to go, you need to leave-”

“I love him.” Josh is soft, and does not move. He is empty inside, expanding like a balloon. “I love him.”

“I know you do. I know.”

-

Josh goes to stay with Mark. He’s reluctant, and he doesn’t know why. It all makes sense. Tyler is a sociopath, Tyler can’t feel, what Tyler does has no consequences because he has no guilt. It makes sense.

Everything tastes like copper and smells like rain.

Tyler doesn’t call that night. Josh thinks he knows. They left that jar on the kitchen table; Mark left a note.

Mark is mad, madder than Josh has ever seen him before.

His girlfriend is kind to Josh again. She sits next to him on the couch, even though all Josh is doing is staring at the television. Nothing is on, only his reflection stares back at him.

He hears her and Mark talking later. Josh has been unable to move since Mark sat him down on his couch. Everything runs together. The lights, the noise, the tastes in his mouth. Josh feels betrayed. He’s known all along.

He should have never talked to Tyler that night.

“Is there anyway we can contact his parents? His siblings? Anyone?”

“He hasn’t talked to his family in ten years, Jen. We could try, but it might not even be good for him to go back with his parents. There’s a reason they don’t talk anymore.”

“It’s better than him being trapped here with you know who so close. He sympathizes for that man, you know that, right? He doesn’t understand. Mark, he needs _help._ He needs it so badly.”

“I know.”

Josh pretends to be asleep when they come into the living room.

-

Tyler admits to everything. He drugged Josh’s food, his drinks, his everything.

Tyler was poison, and Josh knew it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I had to. I had to.” And Tyler cries. It’s the first time Josh has ever seen Tyler cry.

Josh thinks it’s fake, just like him.

“You wanted to leave me, you were getting ready to leave me, and you couldn’t leave Josh, you couldn’t, you’re my everything.”

“You don’t know what that means,” he replies.

“I do, I’ve been trying to be better, you know that, it’s for you-”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not, I swear. I love you Josh, I know I love you, you are so important to me, you can’t leave me. Who else will I find that loves someone as messed up as me?” he cries harder. “I’m insane. I just wanted you to see.”

“I wanted to kill people,” Josh says. “I wanted to kill you. Didn’t think about that, did you? I wanted to snap your neck. I thought I did, twice.” he’s crying now too. “I love you Tyler, but I’m also _terrified_ of you.”

“I just wanted you to be mine.” Tyler looks timid, meek, and unlike anything Josh has ever seen. He’s reminded of why he fell in love with Tyler in the first place, and he allows himself to get sucked under one more time.

They have sex. Tyler isn’t harsh. He’s soft.

Tyler doesn’t do soft.

Josh is loud. Josh isn’t loud.

The night dies. Josh kills his mind, and tells Tyler goodbye.

-

Mark takes Josh to a psychiatric center. They’re going to help him piece his mind together again. Everyone understands.

Tyler is getting help too. Josh is glad. He hopes one day they can talk again, because Josh knows there was always going to be a piece of him that would be unable to get Tyler out of his mind.

He takes a deep breath, and smiles.

Nothing tastes like copper, and nothing smells like rain.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [he wakes up early](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8774980) by [AndrogynousTablature](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndrogynousTablature/pseuds/AndrogynousTablature)




End file.
